


Opportunity Knocks

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Heterosexual Sex, Not Epilogue Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-War, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-17
Updated: 2007-09-17
Packaged: 2018-10-27 10:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10807545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Tasked with degnoming the garden, Ron and Hermione take advantage of their time alone.





	Opportunity Knocks

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Gift fic for Estatica, also fit the August Canon couples challenge at Erotic Elves.

“I swear, once we’re married we’re living somewhere that’s not infested with gnomes!” Hermione straightened, blowing a strand of hair from her eyes. “In fact, I’d prefer someplace without a back garden, or only a very small one.”

Ron tossed another gnome over the hedge. “You know Mum only does it to get us out of her hair,” he replied. “It’s been her way for as long as I can remember. After awhile, she didn’t even have to ask. We’d see the look on her face and go outside.” He rested his hands on his hips and stretched, smiling at the memory.

“I don’t know why we have to be the ones degnoming the garden anyway,” Hermione grumped. “It’s _our_ wedding; shouldn’t we be the ones planning it? I should feel lucky she let me choose my own dress!”

“We could always elope.” Ron seized a gnome, expertly shifting his grip on the squirming creature so it couldn’t bite or scratch before throwing it. “I don’t think Harry would mind missing out on being best man.”

Hermione blew the strand of hair from her face again. “She and Ginny are probably deciding wedding favours for me this very moment.”

“Probably.” Ron didn’t sound much fussed at the thought. “Look, Mum left some cider before she and Ginny left. I’ll bring it out and we can cool off before we get back to it.”

Hermione agreed, making herself comfortable beneath the welcome shade of one of the trees while Ron went for the cider. It was a warm day even for summer, and the heat made her nerves, already fraying from the stresses of preparing for her wedding to Ron, even more on edge. The chance to relax, even momentarily, was too good to pass.

Ron emerged from the house, carrying two tall glasses. Handing one to Hermione, he sat down beside her, stretching long legs in front of him. She watched as he drank deeply, Adam’s apple bobbing, arrested by the sight of the smooth glide of pale freckled skin as his throat worked. She sipped at her own glass, savouring the cool crisp taste of the cider.

Draining his glass, Ron set it aside with a contented sigh, leaning back against the tree trunk, hands laced behind his neck while gazing at the canopy of leaves overhead. “I’m glad Mum and Ginny aren’t home,” he said. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since we’ve been alone? Really, truly alone?” He shot a sidewise glance toward her, one eyebrow raised.

“Opportunity knocks?” Hermione asked, giving him a tiny smile.

“Banging on the door like no one’s business.” Ron waited as she took another sip from her glass before plucking it from her hand. “I don’t want to waste it. Do you?”

“Your mother’s expecting the garden to be completely degnomed by the time she returns,” Hermione pointed out, ever practical.

“Oh, it will be,” Ron said, moving closer. “Mum and Ginny are _shopping_. They’ll be gone for hours yet.” His voice took on a wheedling tone. “You remember the preparations for Bill and Fleur’s wedding, don’t you? She never let them be alone, either. Who knows when we’ll get another chance like this?”

Hermione remembered that time quite well, and not only for the lack of time she wanted to spend with Ron and Harry, planning their Horcrux hunt. “Well…”

“That’s what I thought.” Ron leaned toward her, one hand reaching to push her hair away from her neck. “You’re always talking about not wasting opportunities.” His lips brushed her throat, feathering kisses along the sensitive skin of her nape, and Hermione shivered, closing her eyes in pleasure.

Strong fingers slipped beneath her chin, tipping her head back. She heard him shift, and a moment later his mouth was on hers, tongue teasing at her bottom lip until they parted. She let out a small sigh as the kiss deepened, arms lifting to wind around his neck, drawing him closer, enjoying the shift and slide of his lips over hers and the feel of his tongue stroking along her own.

The hand not cupping her nape fumbled at the hem of her t-shirt, finally finding its way beneath the thin fabric, fingers grazing over the slight swell of her abdomen and upward until they closed around one breast, squeezing it gently through the cup of her plain cotton bra. His thumb circled her nipple until it contracted beneath his touch and she let out a small, breathy moan. Reaching behind her, she unclasped the bra before Ron could struggle with it, smiling when he chuckled under his breath, wasting no time before tugging the shirt up and over her head. The bra followed moments later, along with Ron’s own shirt. Ron bent his head once their clothing was out of the way, lips teasing the column of her throat before sliding along one collarbone.

Hermione threaded her fingers through ginger hair as Ron laid her back onto the ground, pressing with gentle insistence until his mouth found and closed around one taut nipple, rolling it around his tongue before suckling in earnest. She gasped at the increased suction, fingers tightening in his hair, pressing upward against his lips and tongue as it laved her nipple into a tight peak. She felt him smile against her skin, pleased at the reaction he’d elicited, and moved to the other breast for more of the same.

One hand crept between them, unfastening her jeans and lowering the zip before cupping her mound through her equally plain cotton knickers. Hermione found herself wishing she’d worn something a bit more provocative when dressing that morning, but Ron didn’t seem to mind whether she wore cotton or silk or cobwebby lace as he hooked his fingers beneath the waistband, tugging jeans and knickers downward when she lifted her hips. He started to undo his jeans as well, but she batted his hands away.

“Let me,” she murmured, deftly unfastening the button, pulling down the zip at a fractional, teasing pace until he growled and she giggled, finishing the task of undressing him before lying back once more. He stretched out alongside her, one cheek resting atop her thigh, fingers toying with the crisp curls crowning the apex.

“You’re brilliant,” he said, voice husky with arousal. “Have I told you that lately?”

“Not since yesterday.” She spread her legs, giving him space to lie between. “Tell me again?”

“You’re brilliant,” he repeated, parting her folds and lowering his head, running a finger over hot, slick flesh. “Absolutely brilliant.”

Hermione whimpered as his tongue followed the same path, licking at her, thrusting shallowly in and out of her wetness, his forefinger finding and circling her clit, caressing the sensitive nub. She moaned, hips beginning to move of their own accord as his tongue continued moving, alternating between flickering touches and broad swipes. His fingers kept brushing across her centre, each light touch ratcheting the tension coiling through Hermione’s body another notch until she shattered with a breathless cry, hips bucking against his fingers and tongue.

Ron rose up, bracing himself above her with one arm, positioning his cock at her entrance and pushing inside. Hermione cried out again and wrapped her legs around him, drawing him even deeper within her body. Licking her lips, she squeezed around his length quite deliberately, wringing a deep groan from his throat.

“Wench,” he said hoarsely, and began moving, keeping his thrusts slow and measured, gradually increasing the pace as Hermione began moving in counterpoint, establishing a comfortable rhythm. “You feel wonderful, so tight, so good…dammit, don’t _do_ that!” he whimpered as she tightened around him again.

“You love it,” she said fondly, and gasped when he began thrusting harder into her, his eyes squeezing shut in concentration. She moved with him, whispering encouragement, hands sliding across his chest. Her fingers closed around his nipples, tweaking them, and Ron stiffened and came, head thrown back, teeth gritted as his climax surged through him, hips jerking as he pulsed into her. He groaned again as she contracted once more around his softening member before he withdrew, rolling to one side and gazing at her with blue eyes soft with satiety.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Brilliant,” she murmured, pushing into a sitting position and reaching for her shirt. A glimpse of movement caught the corner of her eye and she gasped, holding her shirt in front of her protectively.

“What?” Ron sat up as well, looking wildly around the garden.

“Ron, the gnomes,” she squealed. “I…I think they were _watching_ us!”

“They probably were.” Ron didn’t sound at all concerned. “Speaking of, we should probably finish degnoming before Mum and Ginny get back.”

“We most definitely should.” Hermione finished dressing and stood, hands clenched at her sides as she stalked toward a gnome. “We’re not having a garden, Ron! Not ever!”


End file.
